


Lost Boy

by Strump



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:50:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7537027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strump/pseuds/Strump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>***Takes place after TWS and before Ultron, and deviates from the plots of the movies***<br/>After dragging Steve out of the Potomac River, Bucky runs. From what, he's not sure. He keeps to the shadows and moves continuously, always keeping the same pattern and trying to remember his life before all of this. Until he meets a young, persistent girl who's spunky attitude reminds him of a headstrong blond he used to know. He takes her under his wing and realizes that he might need her more than she needs him.<br/>"The Winter Soldier didn't do sympathy, but James Barnes did and since he was suspended somewhere in the middle of those two, he felt conflicted. So he went for a sort of positive apathy, instead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while I was taking a shower, as all great stories do. I hope you guys like the first chapter. This came to me partly because I'm so utterly unhappy with the bleak hopelessness of the MCU lately, so I decided to weave my own plot. This deviates hard core from Ultron and Civil War. And Steve will definitely be in this story!!!  
> Not a romance story, either.

            _Always keep moving. Always keep going. Don't stop. Don't look up. Keep going._ It'd been his mantra for months. He was a master at hiding, blending into crowds, being unseen, even in busy places. He didn't know where he was. Some state in the west. Maybe Nevada. He didn't care. He just needed to keep moving.

            He'd had remnants of a forgotten life, foggy but there, floating in his mind since that fateful day over the Potomac river with the blond haired man.   _Steve._ He'd once been James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America's right hand man. Then he'd been the Winter Soldier. He remembered being the Winter Soldier, but he didn't recall being Bucky Barnes. So he reverted, far more frequently than he would have liked, to Winter Soldier tendencies.

            He always felt more comfortable in the shadows, and this particular night was no different. His place of choosing to sleep was a dark alley, and he'd eyed a perfect spot between two dumpsters, with no way for anyone to sneak up on him. But as he approached, after the sun sank below the horizon, he saw a dark figure curled up in between the dumpsters. At first, he'd thought it was a dog. But then he realized it was far too large to be a dog, and was actually just a small human, a female. The way she was curled in on herself seemed vaguely familiar to Bucky, but as he tried to pry a floorboard of his mind up to pursue the faint memory of feeling, it only buckled down tighter, so he stopped trying and approached the girl.

            She was awake. As soon as he'd taken two steps towards her, she jumped to her feet with a small knife in her hand and her eyes glinting dangerously. Bucky figured she couldn't be more than fifteen.

            "Don't come near me." The sentence was spoken hard, but the tone of voice she said them in curled around Bucky's ears panicked and desperate. Her eyes were narrowed, but there was a pleading sort of hopelessness in them. She'd been on the streets for a long time. He eyed her dangerously, lips curled in a slight snarl. Her hand trembled and she averted her eyes from his, backing down from his challenge. "I was here first." She said weakly, squeezing the knife with a white knuckled grip.

            Bucky knew he could kill her easily. Had this event occurred only several months earlier, he would have, without a second thought. But Hydra had been toppled and Bucky had something that he hadn't had in almost seventy years now. The freedom to choose. And he didn't choose murder. He never chose murder.

            "You're bleeding." She spoke again, interrupting Bucky's thoughts. His eyes flickered, a look somewhere between mute surprise and acceptance overcoming his face. The cut on his cheek had been weeping blood for some time, but he'd become so used to injury that he no longer acknowledged it. "Are you okay?" she asked, somewhat shakily. Bucky narrowed his eyes, glancing at her knife before deciding the spot wasn't worth it, and spun around. "Hey wait up!" The girl called after his retreating figure. He didn't stop, or turn back around. "Fuck you too, buddy." she muttered, clearly unintended for his ears. He kept walking, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket despite the suffocating heat of the night.

            Sleeping was hard for Bucky. Most nights, he dreamed of mindless murder, the killing he'd done for Hydra, however brain washed he might have been. He dreamed of blood dripping from his hands and watching the light fade out of people's eyes. They weren't so much dreams as they were terrible memories.

            Some nights, though, he dreamt of the blond haired man. Steve. Captain America. The hero had called Bucky his friend, on the helicarrier. He'd refused to fight him. He'd struck a memory in Bucky, so hard that it had frozen the deadly assassin on the spot. He wasn't sure of much from his past, but he was sure that Steve had been an important part of it. Maybe the most important part. Memories he managed to dredge up from before Hydra, memories not from the Winter Soldier but from James Barnes, always had the same glowing blue eyes and golden hair. The same shining smile, and laugh. Always a light in his darkness. Those nights, he slept well.

            Bucky awoke to a bang. He jumped to his feet, unaware of his location, reverting to old programming. The gun was in his hand before he could even blink.

            "Come on kid, you talk big, but you're weak." A laugh bounced along the walls of the alley, past Bucky, before being swallowed by the sound of cars driving by. Late morning sun beat down on the pavement of the sidewalk, but the alley was shrouded in cool shadows.

            "Get the fuck off of me, Bud." A familiar voice spat. The voice that belonged to the girl from last night.

            "Who's gonna make me, Annie?" The male voice responded. Bucky turned slowly, slipping his gun back into the waistband of his pants, to see a tall boy towering over the girl from last night, lying on the ground amidst the rubble of an upturned trashcan.

            "I am." The words erupted from Bucky's mouth before he had time to think of them. He longed to reach out, shove them back into his mouth and be on his way. He didn't have time to get involved with anyone else's problems, he had his own problems to sort out. Problems that were by no means simple or easy. He was a walking time bomb, unsure if he was going to wake up the Winter soldier one day and kill everyone around him.

            "Yeah? And who the hell are you?" Bud asked, turning his attention away from Annie. The girl scrambled to her feet and backed away, blinking quickly. Bucky noted the blood running down the side of her face with calculating indifference.

            "Doesn't matter." Bucky replied with a shrug.

            "That's rich." Bud rolled his eyes before lunging towards Bucky with a well-meaning punch. But Bucky was a trained assassin, and Bud had clearly had no formal fighting training. Bucky easily sidestepped his attack and spun, landing a hard kick to the kid's abdomen paired with a swing from his right hand, his human hand, to the nose. Bud dropped like a pound of bricks with a groan and pitched forward into the ground, unconscious.

            "Oh my god, thank you so much." Annie exclaimed, taking a couple steps towards Bucky. The assassin swung his cold gaze onto her, freezing her in her tracks. "Um, I'm Annie." She hesitantly stretched her hand out. Bucky eyed it slightly before turning around silently and making his way towards the gaping end of the alley. "Wait up, dude." Annie hurried after him, wincing as she reached up to finger the large bump on the side of her head. "What can I call you?" She asked as they stepped onto the street. Bucky glanced both ways in the hot downtown of some city he didn't know before turning to the right and striding down the street. "That was so cool, what you did back there." She struggled to keep up with his long strides.

            "Stop following me." Bucky muttered, not stopping as he turned down a side street and away from the straying eyes of people on the sidewalk.

            "Bud basically rules this part of town, though. You might want to watch out. Kaycee isn't going to be too happy to hear you knocked out his little brother." Annie rambled, still on his heels.

            "Stop following me." Bucky stated again in a cold tone, the tone of the Winter Soldier.

            "Why did you help me?" Annie fired back persistently, undeterred by his cold tone. He knew she was lucky she couldn't see his face right now, or she'd be running for the hills. Bucky didn't answer her question. "You're a veteran." She called. His step faltered slightly.

            "How do you know that?" He demanded as he swung around to face her, fists clenching. Possibilities rushed through his head. She worked for Hydra. Or Shield. Or whatever was left of either of those organizations. She'd been sent to take him, or to kill him.

            "Are you kidding me?" Annie demanded incredulously, gesturing to him. "Your entire look screams it. And that fighting back there? You can't learn that anywhere else. You were in the military." She replied knowingly, crossing her arms over her dirtied shirt. "What are you doing in a place like this, anyway?"

            "What town is this?" Bucky demanded of her, eyes narrowed into the cold look of the Winter Soldier. Annie's gaze faltered and she tripped over her words, averting her eyes to the hot pavement below her muddied and mangled shoes.

            "Phoenix, Arizona. You don't even know where you are? Do you need help? I can help you out. There's like a million shelters around here, and people who can help you with whatever you need. You have memory problems or something?" She asked. The question was curious, not meant to pry or be nosy, but Bucky straightened and he growled softly. "Holy shit, did you just fucking growl at me? Like some sort of wild animal or some shit?" She demanded, wide eyes flashing up to look at Bucky. But he was striding down the street, broad shoulders swinging with every step. She noticed the way he walked as if he weighed more on his left side, something of a swagger to his step. "You have a prosthetic arm, don't you?" She called after him, jogging to catch up.

            "Do you ever give up?" Bucky retaliated.

            "No." Annie shrugged carelessly and brushed her long, stringy hair behind her shoulders. "You do, don't you?" She pressed again. He didn't answer. "You still haven't told me your name." She pointed out, jogging to keep up with his quickened pace.

            "That's because I don't fucking like you and I wish you would leave me alone." Bucky snapped in irate anger. Annie didn't seem fazed by his anger, putting her hands on the back of her head with a dramatic sigh.

            "Everyone is too closed off these days." She sang melodramatically. "Nobody has time for a lonely, homeless teenager. No, that's okay." Annie continued dramatically. Bucky huffed a sigh through his nostrils.

            "What do you want from me?" He asked in irritation as they crossed the street towards a park. Bucky eyed everyone walking down the street, all seemingly absorbed into their small mobile devices.

            "Nothing, really." Annie shrugged in response. "The better question, my friend, is what do _you_ want from _me_?" She replied mysteriously.

            "I want you to leave me alone. That is well and truly what I want." Bucky deadpanned. Annie frowned slightly, her shoulders lilted slightly.

            "Sure. Sorry to bother you. Thanks for the help." She replied, obviously beaten by his sullen attitude. He stopped and watched as she turned to stumble away from him, feet dragging on the pavement and head hanging low. She was obviously tired.

            The Winter Soldier didn't _do_ sympathy, but James Barnes _did_ and since he was suspended somewhere in the middle of those two, he felt conflicted. So he went for a sort of positive apathy, instead.

            "Hey kid." He called after her, watching her shoulders perk as she turned around a little too quick. "The name's Bucky. Take a walk with me."


End file.
